"Then out of the clouds-way, way up there-comes this big helicopter. Soon as the thing gets level with the windows at the top it blasts away until there's fire everywhere. I had to get back in the car, there was so much stuff raining down. I was sure you were gone then. But I thought, well, maybe I'll wait. I could go up and check once things quieted down. The helicopter flew off then, and about fifteen minutes later, a group of Enforcers come out of the building, all of them smoking and steaming, carrying you between them. Then I see that Willieboy again! His Enforcers put you in one of the transports and he points at the body that dropped out of the building. One of them Enforcers bags it and Willieboy drags it into the transport too and away they go. So I start the car and followed.
"Then, we came up to this big place that I wasn't sure, but I thought it was the King of the Dead's place. Cause I heard, well you know fellows talk. So, I had to be careful because people don't speak well of the King. I just got parked, and saw them take you in. Then another bunch of transports come up and Enforcers get out and start arguing with the guys behind the bars at the front gate." Elmo had smiled then, because he realized the story was growing overlong. "Anyway, I'm waiting, when this war breaks out and again I'm thinking, Good-bye, Boss! Then just when I guess I better go, or do something, there's that transport, crashing out of the ground like a monster or something. And when it goes smashing through the w-wall I'm thinking, that's something the Boss would do, so I follow! I wasn't sure, but I knew I couldn't do anything else. And here we are. It was a hunch!"
"Just a hunch," I had said. "Just a hunch, and a thousand syllables. Thanks Fatso. Good work!"
By the time Elmo had finished his story, we had arrived at the address I'd given him. It was the bar, Berlinz. There were rooms for rent upstairs. Elmo walked in, got a room, and then we took Ms. Hawksbridge up, much to the pleasure of the little Latino bartender with the gold tooth. I let Elmo dress my left shoulder-the wound had bled clean-just some alcohol and a bandage. I pressed a towel full of ice cubes against my face. Ms. Hawksbridge had grown nervous by this time. She was in a hotel room with a dead man and a clown. I could understand her concern. I had assured her that I was a detective-I showed her my license-and that she would be all right with Elmo. She'd have to trust us. I gave Elmo the auto-shotgun and a box of ammunition from the trunk. I left after telling Hawksbridge that I would be back soon; I told Elmo to take her to her brother if I wasn't. I went to the Chrysler and pulled another coverall out of the trunk, then reapplied my makeup. The way my face had swollen up, it was an improvement for a change. I loaded the. 9mm from the trunk and realized I was fast running out of backup weapons. That was fine, because I was fast running out of the urge to use them. I stopped at a drug store to buy a pint of whiskey and a couple of sandwiches then I had headed out along the highway west.
Now I stood looking at the gates of Simpson's. Strips of yellow Authority caution tape were stapled over it in a prohibitive spider web. It bore the words: "Removal of tape a criminal offense!" I tore it down with a sneer. I walked up to the miniature door set in the gates. It was locked, but I had brought a crowbar with me. I worked it into the groove by the lock and yanked it back and forth until I heard something snap. I pushed the door open.
There was darkness in the courtyard in front of the black stone mansion, and momentarily I wondered where the patients had gone after the Authority closure. I shrugged, my moment of compassion over. There were a thousand such establishments dying for patients. They would be given good homes. I instinctively checked the action of my gun, then slipped the automatic into my pink skipping rope belt. Yes, I have spares of those as well. I reached into my pocket and grabbed my mini-flash. I flicked it on and followed its tiny light over the ceramic tiles. I noticed that a few windows were broken, evidence of vandals. It was likely that this edifice to the dead would go unmolested; it was so far out in the Landfill. Even thieves got butterflies so close to the failed internment facilities.
I found myself wishing I had been welcomed by the downy-cheeked Tobias, and given a ride in his little electric car. It was about a mile through the courtyard and leisure park, and my heart labored. The whiskey I had drunk in the car had eased the pain of my exertions, but it had not supplied me with rest and actual healing, both things my-Tommy's-body craved. "Soon," I said out loud. The word rolled up the empty courtyard like a drunk, bouncing off benches and lampposts. I cast a glance up at the high windows of the mansion. As I had expected there was a light on in a window. It was all warm and glowy like home. I pulled my gun, and checked the clip. I made sure one was in the chamber. After this, I had one more phone call to make. One more, and if everything went right, life could get back to its usual horrors.
I was panting by the time I climbed a series of steps to the large front doors of the mansion. I shoved the crowbar into the space flush with the bolt, and then paused. I tried the handle-the doors were unlocked. I didn't like that very much, but decided to play it cool. After setting the crowbar by the door, I lit a cigarette, cocked my hat-I had borrowed Elmo's, it was tight but it would do-and sauntered into the lobby. I crossed the Persian carpet noiselessly. My flash's penny-light was just a tiny spark in the enormous room. The space overhead gathered mass with the darkness and weighed me down. I flinched involuntarily, before I made my way across the lobby and up the stair. I looked up, saw only shadow, but knew that carved into the ceiling and columns around me were a thousand cherubs, their little marble eyes staring-night creatures now, like bats.
As I got to the top, I heard something that was like music, only sweeter. I didn't know the lyrics, but the melody continued until, somewhere at the back of my mind I responded with tears. A baby was crying.
I followed the sound, and soon, in the utter darkness, saw a slit of light ahead creeping out under a door. Then, I heard another sound join the crying-perfect harmony. A woman's voice hummed a long forgotten song-a lullaby. I walked up to the door, then drew my gun. A tear splashed on my hand. I waited, hardened myself. I was surprised no guards had materialized but remembered that Adrian didn't want any more partners. No more palms to grease. I opened the door onto a large room-saw a bed, sitting area, and bar.
A woman with bright red hair turned to the door smiling. Her eyes were fixed upon a tiny naked thing in her hands. She said, "Richard, I'm so glad you're back. You should have seen…" But her voice dropped as her gaze fixed upon me.